


A Rat, A Hog, And A Broken Picture Frame

by SupposedToBeWriting



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: A Surprising Lack Of Murder, Body Count 1, Bonding, Forgiveness, Gen, Junkrat Finding Out The Secret Fic, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-18 20:22:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16523996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SupposedToBeWriting/pseuds/SupposedToBeWriting
Summary: Jamie and Mako find more than what they're looking for (read: scrap and money) in an abandoned house in the Outback. Namely, some hints as to Jamie's life before the Omnium blew up and Mako's role in how that happened. Will Mako apologize for causing the apocalypse, and will Jamie murder him in a frenzied quest for vengeance? Time to make the partnership awkward.





	A Rat, A Hog, And A Broken Picture Frame

“Looks like it’s our lucky day!”

It was pitch-black outside, the moonlight barely able to penetrate the ever-present cloud layer that hung over the Outback. ‘Lucky day’, right.

They weren’t exactly _quiet_ in their motorcycle and side car, but quiet had never been their modus operandi. There was a loud backfire every couple of seconds as the bike struggled to keep going on scraps and fumes. They were running low on petrol. Hog hadn’t been too pleased at the ridiculous side car attachment (the Rat had scrapped up an old carnival ride for the casing, and it looked _ridiculous),_ but Rat had been the one to get the Hawg in working shape, so he couldn’t complain too much.

The name wasn’t Hog’s idea. Who the fuck would need a name for a motorcycle. It had his name carved into the ignition. And he wasn’t too sure that it was spelled ‘Hawg’, either, but that was how Rat always said it. Usually with hand gestures and occasionally a hip thrust.

Roadhog slowed their pace as they came upon a house (more of a shack, really) in the middle of nowhere. Places like these weren’t uncommon. When the Omnium blew up, it only decimated a few blocks outside of it. Everything else stood. It was mostly the people and the radiation that tore the rest down, but this dilapidated shack still seemed to be standing.

Either Rat was right, and they were lucky, or it was occupied.

Good. They needed scrap, in either scenario. Probably best for them to stay out of Junkertown for the time being, which choked their trading options. Bruce was reliable, but never ventured outside city limits.

Fucking Rat pissing off one of the fucking Queen’s bodyguards because of his fucking mouth. _Again._ Hog had taken his eyes off him for _two seconds._

He stopped the cycle in front of the place and pushed himself out of the seat with a grunt. Rat had already sprung himself out of it like a goddamn Jack-in-a-box.

“I tell ya, mate, it’s never too late for the day to turn around. Y’think they’ve got a buncha scrap in there? Probably do,” Rat continued, scrambling up the hill half on his arms and legs. He did that when he got excited. “And y’know, if it’s not half-bad on the inside, what with the bugs and other mites, might be a swell place to stay for the night ‘fore we head on. Think we’ll catch the boat in a coupla days, right?”

Hog wanted to point out that even if they got to the boat taking them out of Australia and into the less-irradiated parts of the world, they weren’t exactly subtle-looking. Rat’s current plan on getting around without being noticed involved disguises. There was a wig stashed in his scrap bag. And Rat had been ‘perfecting’ his American accent with whoever crossed his path. Which was, more often than not, Hog.

It had been a very, very long week. They’d been skirting up the coast of Australia with Rat in the sidecar. Snapping at the Rat only encouraged his antics.

“And then we’re off on our International Crime Spree. Gonna be _great,_ Roadie, I can just imagine. Two of us, living the highlife in – say, whaddaya imagine it’s like out there? You ever been?” Rat waved him off. “Course ya haven’t, what am I sayin’? But I’ve heard you can actually see the sun out there, all the time, ‘course when it’s daylight and all – _and_ that most folks have all their limbs, and nobody’s gotta take the rad poppers, and … well, it sounds proper boring, but you _bet_ stiffs like that have lotsa cash and jewels lying around.”

At the mention of the anti-radiation medication, Hog made a grunt of realization and withdrew a vial from his bag. He held it out to his companion wordlessly. Rat had skittered a few more feet forward, but upon seeing Hog stopped, turned to look. His eyes narrowed in confusion, before he scampered back over towards Hog.

“Aw, I nearly forgot! Look at ya, always looking out for me, Roadie.” Delicately, Rat plucked the vial out of Hog’s hands and took a few sips of it.

Hog wasn’t sure when his job requirements had started including ‘medical attendant’, but even Rat got twitchier than normal when he didn’t take the anti-rads.

He didn’t mind that so much. It took Rat a few seconds to drink it (because it was fucking gross), and there every second of silence was precious. Hog was lucky to get what he needed from the ventilator and the hogdrogen.

The house above them had been nice, once. There was a large porch out front, with a few whittled-down sticks that might’ve been rocking chairs at one point. Windows, some broken, would allow for lots of light. _A family probably lived there_ , Hog thought in the back of his mind. _Once upon a time._

As they reached the top of the hill, Hog hefted his shotgun out of his holder and took a step forward. They had to clear it out first. “No no no, I got this,” he heard Rat say behind him. He spared a glance at his friend, took a step to the side, and gave a large shrug of his shoulder to convey his disbelief.

Rat didn’t even knock.

Instead, he placed his peg on the door and kicked it open. It flew wide with a loud _slam._ Somewhere inside, something fell off one of the walls.

“ _Honey,_ we’re _home!”_ He called, taking a few confident, swaggering steps inside.

 _He’s gonna get us both killed someday,_ Hog told himself, _And it’s going to be doing something stupid._

There was no response inside the house, though. Indeed, the inside seemed dusty and in disrepair and particularly … home-y. Like someone had been living there, instead of using the place as a make-do survival camp.

It filled Hog with a temporary, rare bit of nostalgia that he immediately stamped down with a snort through his mask.

_Domesticity is dead. Love is a lie. We have to clear out the place._

“Aw, hell, I think they’ve just got junk here, Hog,” Rat started to chatter as he probed further inside the house. “Bah. Books, knick-knacks, see if they’ve got one of those two-up games, wouldja? Or, y’know, I think I see some stairs to a basement. Think that’s where they keep the good grog?”

That would make this entire trip worth it, even if Rat had turned him off drinking due to always smelling like warm piss-beer. Hog thought about arguing to clear out the house, and decided against it. Anyone still living there would’ve been scared out of their hidey-holes by now.

“Excellent advice as always, Roadie,” Rat turned around to beam at him, his gun unholstered. Hog had gotten used to Rat’s lack of trigger discipline. The man waved his gun arm as if it were an attachment of himself. “I’m gonna go search downstairs. _You_ try an’ find a good place for us to hunker down for the night, yeah?”

That could be done. Hog gave a small nod and Rat went downstairs to investigate the alcohol situation. Part of him wanted to say that the basement _might’ve_ been a safer location to sleep, so long as it wasn’t moldy, but that was too drawn out to discuss with Rat.

He turned to investigate the living area. A flat space, could put out their bedrolls in there. What had once been a couch, something too small for Hog but Rat could fit on with room to spare. The large easy chair in the corner could do for him, though, and the thought of sleeping somewhere cushioned and soft for once … it was very tempting.

A sleeping place sussed out, Hog started to pick through valuables. The kids toys were slightly disturbing – _definitely lived here before the Omnium blew –_ and he found himself staring at a little model train, before chucking it to the side. It hit the wall, fell boxcar up, and skittered along a few inches before stopping.

Nothing valuable. Bah. Below, he could hear Rat giggling and scurrying around to himself. At least he was having a good time. Maybe he’d find another wig. After a second, he heard the scurrying stop and he tilted his head to the side. Maybe Rat had finished scavenging already. He was good at it, could pick apart an entire area in a matter of minutes if he was really set on it. But to be heading up the stairs already, that was –

“ _Piss off, freak!”_

A man’s scratchy voice pierced the air and suddenly Hog felt a sharp pain in his shoulder. It was enough to make him flinch, but he didn’t take a step. There was a second-and-a-half where Hog kept staring down at the toybox he’d been rummaging in, before realizing that his shoulder felt a little … heavier than normal.

He finally turned around to see a middle-aged man peering up at him with anger … which quickly turned to shock and fear when it was clear that, despite the knife that had been plunged into Hog’s body, he wasn’t budging. Hog stared down at him wordlessly.

“ _OI!”_ And, of course, there was Rat, two-seconds-too-late on the top of the basement stairs. “Did you just call my _friend_ a freak!?” He took a step forward, and Hog noted that his frag launcher was still out. _Set that off that close to me and you’re dead, Rat._ “And don’t think I’m none too pleased about the stabbing, either! Eat bomb, dick-for-brains!”

The man seemed to take interest when Rat started talking, even going to turn around and face him. That gave Hog plenty of time to reach up and pinch the knife handle between his fingers and yank it out _That_ hurt like a son of a bitch. He grunted inside the mask, faltering for a second before breathing in deep.

“J-Jamison?” The man blurted out in recognition. “Jamison, is that you? You’ve gotten so … big.”

Rat stilled at that, his head cocking to the side like a small dog’s. It took a lot to shock him, but this seemed to, at the very least, made him hesitate.

Hog did not.

Raising the knife again, Hog brought it down just as quickly into the man’s neck. He was no surgeon, but he’d killed enough people. The man crumpled to his knees, still facing Rat, and then fell forward onto his face. The handle stuck out of his body.

Letting out a grunt of annoyance, Hog rolled his shoulder. It stung like shit, but he was doing a lot better than this guy. Rat’s eyes fell to the body, then went up to Hog, and went to the body again.

“That – “ Rat started, stopped himself, and finished with: “Was weird. How d’you reckon he knew my name, Hog?” He stepped forward and gave the man a nudge with his foot to make sure that he was dead. “And what was that about me getting big? Some sorta fat joke or somethin’?”

Hog didn’t know, either. He didn’t know a whole lot about Rat’s childhood. For all the Rat talked, it seemed his life started at age Old-Enough-To-Shoot-A-Gun-That-Shot-Bombs. It didn’t worry him much. The guy was dead and bleeding out on the ground, who he was or what he knew didn’t matter.

“Right. Right, right, right,” Rat repeated to himself, reaching down and taking out the knife. _Glad he took my comments about not wasting weapons._ “Why don’tcha – if we’re gonna sleep here for the night, I don’t wanna wake up spoonin’ him. Can you take him outside, Roadie?” He glanced up at his friend and, as if realizing that Hog was bleeding, skittered around to take a look at his back. “Huh. He really gotcha there. What, did he sneak up on ya?”

For all of Hog’s strengths, visuals and hearing wasn’t one of them. He’d gotten attuned to Rat, because God did the man give him reason, but other than that … he relied on being able to withstand attacks, not seeing them beforehand.

He gave Rat a simple shrug.

“ _Well,”_ Rat sighed, “Guess he ain’t gonna be stabbing nobody now.”

Hog picked up the corpse and hefted it over his good shoulder. With the amount of hogdrogen flowing through his ventilators, he’d be fixed up in a few hours. Benefit of needing the stuff to … well, live, essentially. Rat had an allergy – an allergy where he couldn’t sit still long enough to breathe the shit in.

He dragged it outside, glancing around at where to put it. Somewhere downwind. Eventually, he hefted it in what was probably a nice flower garden, once upon a time, before everything blew up.

By the time he got back inside the house, Rat was crouched in a corner.

“Wouldja look at this?” Rat commented, straightening up. There was something square clutched in his grubby little hands. “’s the photo that musta fallen down when we got in.” He flashed the picture frame to him, putting on a wide grin beside it. “Remind ya of anyone?”

In the photo were six people. Clearly pre-Omnic crisis, from the sun shining in through the window. It was the living room of that house, and yeah, the stiff was the guy on the right with his arms around a woman. There was a girl, only a teenager, forcing a smile next to them. Then, a man and a woman with interlocked arms around a highchair with a small toddler resting in it. His face was smeared with cake, and he was grinning widely, with blond, curly hair sticking up in every which direction.

His mind stuttered to a stop, and he only looked blankly up at Rat in response. That was … it was hard to tell for certain, Hog wasn’t sure whether he was just going crazy, but he had to admit there was a small resemblance. That same stupid laughing face.

“Alright, don’t got time to play Twenty Questions with you. It’s me, innit?” Rat turned the picture back ‘round, admiring it. “Must’ve been before the Crisis ‘n all. What would you figure.” Suddenly, with a flick of his robotic wrist, the picture was over his shoulder and landing with a crash on the floor. “Anyhow. Figure it’s too dark to get any searching done, but I _do_ wanna tear apart that oven ‘fore we go to get at the juicy bits. Why don’t I take first watch for the night, we scout it out in the mornin’, then we burn up the entire place to the ground?”

That was … a way to deal with it.

Rat had a weird way of not getting bothered by things. They’d been at death’s door more than a few times. Part of his leg had gotten blown off. One time, in a particular dry spell, he’d gotten so sick with radiation poisoning that Hog had had to force the mask onto him to get him some hogdrogen. He dealt with Hog’s constant negativity with a smile, and never, ever hesitated in anything he did. In his own twisted little mind, the nuclear wasteland must’ve been some kind of paradise.

But this? This was different. This was evidence of a life, a family, before. Hog tilted his head at him curiously, not moving. Surely there was some effect.

“What’s the long face for?” A series of giggles.

Hog didn’t respond, instead dipping his face lightly to gesture where the picture had fallen.

“What? Don’t wanna keep it or nothin’.” Rat turned around, hands on his hips, as he marched to the other side of the room. “What’s it matter to me that I had a family ‘fore? Ain’t done any good for me so far, y’figure. Sure as I can remember, I’ve lived in Junkertown my entire life, fighin’ stray dogs for my fair share.”

If Rat wasn’t feeling anything, Hog was feeling it for him.

There it was, that old fucker. Guilt.

What they had done had been the right thing. The Outback would’ve been driven into poverty by the Omnics, had already displaced a lot of people, and they had never wanted the fucking Omnium anyway. They had never thought it would do … that. They hadn’t thought they’d have to live with the consequences of their actions.

And sure, he knew, logically, that a lot of people had probably died. But god damn it, he hadn’t ever considered that Rat – that _Jamie_ had had a family, once upon a time, that loved him and had probably been so scared when everything had happened. And, of course, one way or another, Rat had ended up at Junkertown.

“Just like you, innit? Junkertown, born – well, maybe not born, Roadie, you’re kind of old – and raised – well – you know what I mean,” Rat waved him off. “Don’t chatter my ear off, or nothin’. You gonna be mother henning me the entire night, or are you gonna let me take first shift as per usual?”

There was something off in his voice, his expression, that Hog couldn’t place his finger on. There was something about the way his eyes darted around, how he was hunched just a little more than usual, the fidgeting in his hands. There was Junkrat-hyperactivity and then there was … something he wasn’t saying.

Hog took a step towards him, looking down. Rat no longer had any nervousness in his face when Hog approached him like that. Hog missed it, in a way.

“ _Oh,_ fine, it’d be nice to have known how they was. How _I_ was. How, y’know, things coulda been.”

 _Bad,_ Hog wanted to warn him. _Just because this house is still standing doesn’t mean the Omnics would’ve let it much longer._

“But it’s not worth worryin’ about now, is it? Uncle Wots-His-Tits is dead out there in the back. And he’s missed my birthday for the past _twenty_ years. Unbelievable.”

Right, they had just killed his last living relative. Probably. Hog felt a little guilt come over him again, but brushed it off. Out of all the murders he’d done, that had been one of the most forgivable. That was basically self-defense.

He wondered if Rat would ever figure out his role in all of this. Rat wasn’t stupid, as much as he acted like it sometimes. He knew that Mako was older, he knew that he was old friends with Bruce back in Junkertown (and God knew what that man said after a few pints), he knew that, if Mako hadn’t had a hand in it, he sure as hell lived through it.

If Rat thought about it, he never brought it up.

Groaning, Rat took Hog’s arm and gave it a shove towards the chair. “I don’t wanna talk about _feelings,_ Hog, I wanna go build _bombs._ Go to bed.”

That was enough. Hog wasn’t one to force talks like this. He went towards the easychair in the corner and sat, taking a few deep breaths. If Rat was going to shove this down in the Repression Tank like everything else in his life, good. That would make everything a lot easier.

Except for the stupid-shit guilt that Hog still felt. He thought that had died a long time ago.

“Goodnight,” he breathed out, tilting his head up at Rat, who had turned to go up the stairs of the shack.

Rat stiffened like he’d been shocked and turned to look at him. Hog didn’t do that, they weren’t the sort of people who wished each other goodnight. For a second, Hog wondered if he’d gone too far, if that was some sort of line he didn’t know he shouldn’t cross. Rat didn’t relax and explode into giggles like he did whenever Hog expressed the barest minimum of humanity.

“Ehm,” he mumbled, as if distracted on the stairs. “G’night, Roadie.” With that, Rat climbed the stairs. Hog counted the slow steps – _metal pegleg, human foot, metal pegleg, human foot –_ and found himself asleep before Rat reached the top.

***

Maybe they had some gold jewelry lying around, maybe some coins. Worst came to worst, he’d spend his watch taking apart appliances in the kitchen until he got enough to make this entire trip worth it. Because honestly, he had a gunk-y feeling inside of him that he was _none_ too fond of.

He was in the bathroom, opening the cabinet and scanning through the pill bottles. Always money to be had for those. Even pain poppers could fetch a pretty penny in.

Jamie’s memory had never been _great_ – he usually forgot where he was going and what he was doing on the best of days, another reason why he was glad the big oinker was following him around to give him a reminder every now and then. Still, he tried to think real hard about what his first memory was.

He remembered darting around Junkertown, the heat and smog settled in his bones. He remembered stealing a bloody _lot._ He remembered passing over a few coins for a ticket to go to the Scrapyard and watch something or someone get the _piss_ being beaten out of it. That had been fun.

Anything before? Anything like a birthday party, a family, a normal life? Nothin’. He wasn’t all that convinced that the stiff wasn’t crazy.

And even if it was true, what did it matter? They were probably all _dead,_ anyway, and what had they ever done for him?

“Nothin’,” Jamie told himself, exiting the bathroom and trying the next door bedroom. “100% free-range nothin’.” He reached for his canteen and took a swig before starting to rifle through the drawer. Sure, maybe he ought to keep an ear out for anything approaching – like a guard was supposed to do – but Hog would be fine for now. “And even if they did exist, it doesn’t matter, ey? I’m an _island._ I don’t need _nobody.”_

He caught sight of himself in the mirror on the dresser. “Don’t you look at _me_ like that. Hog doesn’t count.” A few seconds more, and he corrected himself – “No, not that he doesn’t _count,_ me, but – I don’t _need_ him.”

And maybe that was true. If Hog ever left, Jamie knew he’d … well, he’d move on, like he always did. People never stuck around. And learning that this hypothetical family had _also_ not stuck around was not all that surprising.

He yanked open the bottom drawer and was greeted by the sight of several yellowed newspapers. “Look’t this,” Jamie muttered, yanking them out. A few crumbled underneath his grasp. He wasn’t no historian, but – well, admitting he was _curious_ about his past family didn’t mind that he _cared_ about them. Nope. Not at all.

He didn’t know what he was expecting. It wasn’t like the family would be the front page, after all, he figured they were nothin’ special. His patience didn’t last much beyond the first few pages, whipping through them and then tossing the papers to the side once he was done. Reading was never his strong suit.

There wasn’t much different between all of them. War. Robots, and what the flying fuck was a Prime Minister, anyway? Sounded like some sorta steak. And, of course, a newspaper confirming the construction of an Omnium in the Outback along with another newspaper that showed what it looked like, all shiny and new. A bucket of bolts was shaking hands with an old man in a suit.

“Think I like it better blown up,” Jamie told himself, running one finger down it. _God damn robot making machine._ “Shoulda expected a suit to be the one behind all of this.”

The newspapers went on – still ancient, but Rat started to recognize more of this history. Sure, he’d heard of the Liberation Front before … sorta. The Queen occasionally brought it up in one of her long, rambling speeches that Rat always used as an excuse to fleece some coins out of some pockets. He always figured they’d died, because he knew from personal experience that being near a big explosion, while fucking awesome, was not conducive to being all that alive.

Here in the papers, though, he saw news of their exploits. An explosion there, a shoot-out in an alley there, a public speech there. Aw, he’d never wanted to live in another time before, but these guys seemed to be right up his alley. Blowing up robots and taking names? “Heroes,” Rat uttered in a dreamy sigh, punctuated with a chuckle. “Be still my beating heart.”

As the news stories got grimmer, Rat got a little more fidgety in turning the papers aside. It wasn’t unusual for a piece of the paper to rip in his grasp and for him to toss it aside. _Could use it for kindlin’,_ he thought in the back of his mind, _in case we’re ever stuck in the middle of nowhere and need to light a fire._

When he got to the bottom of the paper pile, Rat stopped at an image.

His reading had never been … great. He’d picked up a few words here and there, important ones, like _bomb_ and _boom_ and _Omnic,_ but he hadn’t ever been one to pick up a book. So when he stopped at the front page, he only saw ‘LIBERATION FRONT’, which he understood fine, had come up before, and ‘MEMBERS’, which he thought was a term for a cock, but alright, he could follow, Liberation Front Penises, and another word, ‘IDENTIFIED’, which he didn’t even bother sounding out in his head.

The picture, though? The picture he could see just fine, torn half-across the top as it was. A couple of young guys, all lookin’ tough (their necks down, anyhow, Jamie figured that he’d unfortunately torn off their faces), and in the corner, one guy on a cycle. He was a bigger guy stuffed in a pair of overalls, and that wouldn’t have caught Jamie’s attention so much. But that bike. He’d _worked_ on that bike. He had spent weeks on that bike, scrounging for scrap and hauling in crap. When he’d gotten the idea to put a sidecar on it, he’d been over the moon.

That, without a doubt, was _Hawg!_

Which meant that that, without a doubt, was Hog. Before … everything.

Jamie sat back on his heels for a second, staring forward at the mirror. Hog, his good buddy Roadhog, his only companion in this lonely world, had been apart of the most amazing explosion in the history of the world, and Jamie felt a little offended that he hadn’t been invited to it. Even if he had been only a few years old.

At that thought, though, Jamie’s eyebrows furrowed. His eyes darted to a photo on the drawers. Another touching family photo. This time, Jamie The Younger was sitting on a lawn chair with a hat pulled down low over his eyes. In the background, some older codger was leaning back in his chair in the same fashion. It was a bright, blue day, and Jamie could just see … was that the sun?

“Fuck me dead, that _is_ the sun,” Jamie murmured, jabbing one finger at the photo. What kind of Outback would that have been? Sun, and blue skies, and … he’d never quite admitted it to himself, but there had been a lot of days, growing up, where he’d wanted one break. _One_ person to give him a hand, some charity, anythin’ at all that didn’t involve him scrabbling little things together to make one big boom.

And the man, just downstairs, had been the one to take that dream away.

***

Hog woke up for his shift on the dot, immediately snorting himself awake on the chair.

He was alone. Not unusual. Rat was rarely eager to go to bed, even after god-knew-how-many hours of watch he’d just done. Once, he just wanted to let the Rat go and see how long he’d stay up. Every once in a while, on long roadtrips, he’d fall asleep in the sidecar. It was almost endearing to watch. _Almost._

Keeping an ear out, Hog heard nothing. That was strange. Even scrounging, Rat was prone to giddy movement. He moved out to the kitchen, and then upstairs, and then even peered down to the basement. Nothing.

His curiosity moved into concern. _Shit._ Where did the Rat go?

Moving onto the outside porch, Hog stared across the dim wasteland. The sky was starting to get a little lighter. Hell, they didn’t even need to switch watch. They could’ve hit the road right now, if they wanted. His eyes fell to the motorcycle. Not that Rat could run off with the thing if he wanted to, but it was good to know that Rat hadn’t fled the scene.

His eyes scanned the cliff-edge as he breathed heavily. And … there. At the edge of one was the thin figure of a man.

 _The fuck, Rat,_ Hog thought in annoyance. _You were supposed to be keeping watch._ Not that he was in too much danger, because if someone was stupid enough to wake him up, they wouldn’t survive it, but still. It was the principle of it. Besides, it wasn’t like Rat to wander off. He pulled up his overalls and started to walk over.

As he did, he noted that Rat was … watching the sunrise. Or whatever passed as much in the Outback these days, mostly a gradual lightening of the sky. He had some bottles with him. Huh. Rat had found booze. His suspicions only grew.

“So,” Rat drawled, still staring out onto the skyline. “You’re the one who caused the end of the world, eh? And don’t give me lip about watch, I’ve got mines set up all around this place.”

 _Shit. How the fuck did he find out._ Hog froze at his spot, uncertain of what to do. Sure, he’d felt guilty about potentially being the indirect (and for the case of the body outside, direct) murderer of Junkrat’s family, but that sure as hell didn’t mean he was going to let the Rat kill him for it. Slowly, he reached over his shoulder for his shotgun.

In front of him, Rat took another long sip from a bottle. Huh. Beer. He gave his thin legs a kick from where he was sitting on the edge. “Wish I coulda been around to see it. Probably was pretty big, huh?”

… Oh.

“Yeah,” Hog admitted out of shock, remembering the day. It wasn’t supposed to go like that. There had been feelings of betrayal, of shock, of fear, of grief. But at the end of the day, that didn’t matter so much as getting on his bike and getting the fuck out of there before his face melted off “It was.”

Rat giggled, leaning back on his hands and staring across at the sun.

Maybe Rat was a _lot_ crazier than he thought. To not be angry, at all … well, he knew him too well to think he was a saint.

“What’re you doin’, standing up there for?” He asked, tilting his head up to see Hog, hand still paused on the butt of his shotgun. “I ain’t drinking this all by myself.”

Hog paused, considered the situation, and then thought – in case this was all a giant trap and he didn’t actually have any reason to trust the Rat – worst case scenario, he could pitch Rat off the cliff really easily. He settled down next to him with a thud while Rat passed over a bottle. Hog didn’t touch it just yet. His eyes were trained on the Rat. Usually his emotions were so easy to read. Rat said everything that was running through his mind. And now …

“Musta been real different back then. One of the photos upstairs, had the sun up in it. Dunno how people managed with the great big fucker up there all the time.” Rat took another long drink, kicking his legs. “Musta been _real_ boring.”

Hog hesitated, thinking. It had been … different. A few words sprang to mind, before Hog breathed, “ _More rules.”_

“Yick.” Rat shook his head wildly from side to side, a few drops of his beer spraying around. “Not the life for me.” He spied up at Hog, genuine curiosity in his eyes. “Y’ever miss it?”

He had to think about it.

There were things he missed. It seemed like all the decent people had died in the explosion, and anyone half-decent had been twisted into something terrible. Most of all, he supposed he missed everything before the Crisis. When he’d just been a man living in the Outback with his family. He remembered showing up to his daughter’s school to walk her home. He remembered worrying, late at night, because holy hell, the new Omnium was going to put a lot of people out of work. Including him.

“Sometimes,” he breathed solemnly.

“Yeah, figure. You couldn’t have worn that fancy pigmask back then. Y’know, I been wondering – and not to get all philosophical on ya, Roadie, ya won’t understand it – but that little anklebiter in the photos? What would he have been? Wouldn’t have gotten into bombs, that’s for bloody sure.”

That was true. Hog’s shoulders slumped.

“So,” Junk elaborated, kicking his leg again. “Really, I should be thanking ya. Could ya imagine if I grew up to be some kind of _stiff?”_

Thanking him? That was … not what he’d expected. He shifted to stare at him, but Rat was staring across the long horizon at the skyline. The bottle was just about at his lips again, even if it was empty. “Family,” Rat went on, lips curling up into a sneer. “Bah. Overrated, I’d say. Who needs it?”

As far as he could manage, Rat hurled the empty glass bottle over the cliff. Seconds passed before they heard the shattering on the beach below. “I got you, don’t I, Roadie?”

Hog thought about his old family. They’d fled out of Australia when the Omnium rolled in, because they had to move. They’d lasted two months in Europe before the Omnic War took care of them. That had only fueled his rage.

And then there was this little asshole of a rat that he’d been travelling with for months. And, shit, he cared for him. He trusted him, even. He was no angel, and he was a brat, but … he was around.

“Yeah,” Hog breathed, sticking his arms behind him. “You got me, Rat.”

Rat sighed out happily, reaching for another bottle. Without even cracking it open, he threw it again over the cliff and cackled when it reached the bottom. “Damn straight. No use worrying about what happened bloody _ages_ ago. Everything turned out hunky-dory, didn’t it?”

He reached his arm back and slapped Hog across the shoulder. Hog stiffened immediately, instinct wanting to rip Rat’s arm off, but he thought that might ruin the moment. Rat’s hand settled on his shoulder.

“And you ‘n me, we’re gonna go out there and scare the _piss_ out of everyone and take all of their stuff. It’s gonna be great.” Scrambling up to his feet, Rat half-heartedly brushed himself off (a useless endeavor, Rat had a thick coating of grime on him at all times) and grinned towards the skyline.

“Well? Time’s wastin’, Roadie, we’re burnin’ daylight.” With that, Rat started to half-skip his way towards the motorcycle. He never walked anywhere, did he. “If I get there ‘fore you, I’m drivin!” He called back over his shoulder, and Hog had to crack a smile behind the mask.

_Not in your dreams, Rat._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone!
> 
> This is my second Roadrat fic, and it explores a question that I get curious about with these two. Jamie's only a few years old when the Omnium blows up, and Mako probably/definitely had a hand in that. I think it's interesting to see how Jamie would react, because at the end of the day, we don't know Jamie's life before (or Mako's!). 
> 
> So I had a think about that, and then I thought -- with Jamie having such a travel-heavy life, not really getting attached to anyone, and also a severe fascination with explosions, he probably wouldn't mind all that much. So long as he's got his frag launcher and his Roadie, he's a happy rat.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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